


...And I Love You

by anemptymargin



Category: The Fugitive (1993)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Old work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-08-14
Updated: 2003-08-14
Packaged: 2017-10-17 00:02:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/170785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anemptymargin/pseuds/anemptymargin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If I could have said the things I meant...</p>
            </blockquote>





	...And I Love You

**Author's Note:**

> This work is very old, as such it is provided without warranty in it's original and unchanged format.

I've seen a lot of men get shot in my lifetime, innocent and guilty...civilians even. But I've never had a marshal go down on my watch...not until that son of a bitch gunned you down in cold blood.

Hell, I don't even know if you can hear this wherever you are...but I've just got so damn much I've been meaning to let you know. So, for my sake I guess, let's just pretend you're in Heaven looking down on all of us and listening to what I've got to say.

Jesus -- Royce...I suppose I should have known he was going to pull some kind of shit on us. It *is* my job to know the criminal mind better than anyone else. To top it off, I won't lie and say I didn't feel just a little bit of pride when justice was delivered and he fell by my own hand. But after that moment faded, I knew nothing had changed...killing your killer wouldn't make it any easier to take the loss.

Cathrine wants us all to see a grief counselor, everyone else has already gone, but I don't really see the point. Cosmo keeps telling me it'll make me feel better to confront my feelings with someone impartial instead of consulting with a bottle of whiskey...I say why bother spending the government's money to tell some over payed asshole in a suit that I wish it had been me instead.

God, I've played that day over and over in my head so many times I've made up my own endings to the constant stream of 'what if' questions. In all honesty, it should have been me. If I'd been a little faster, maybe laid off the doughnuts and fast food with Cosmo when he started his weight loss campaign, maybe if I'd listened to the paranoid voice in my head that told me Royce couldn't be trusted as far as I could throw his smut, chicken-shit, traitor ass.

Christ, kid. Is this all I have left now? How do I get beyond *this*? How do I continue with business as usual knowing I lost you for no good reason...knowing that I never got to tell you that I didn't mean all the things I told you the night I got on that plane to New York.

Yeah, I regret saying what I said. I regret telling you that our...well, whatever you want to call it...our thing...wasn't worth the trouble. I regret saying it was over and that you needed to walk away from our relationship and find someone who could give you all the things you were looking for. Truth be told, I know I could have tried to be what you needed.

I'm sure it will come as a bit of a suprize that the truth of the matter was that I was scared. Yeah, the Big Dog was afraid of something. But it's not an excuse for what I did, I was an asshole. Honestly, Noah, I don't know how you put up with me as long as you did.

I like to think you loved me as much as you said you did, that all your respect and blind faith in me came from genuine love and not the hero worship you were always accused of. I'm no hero, never was and never will be. And I know nobody would believe me if I told them, but in some ways I'm far weaker than any of you. I can put on a good show, but when the lights are off and I'm in whatever bed I landed in that night, I'm just as vulnerable as anyone else.

I think you know all that already, though. I *think* you knew the first time you cornered me in our hotel room and forced me to give you answers about why we ended up the way we did your second night on the job...in the back office pawing at each other like high school kids.

Do you remember that night? We were working a case in Atlanta, splitting a double in a Holiday Inn the night before our stake out. Cosmo and Biggs were in the room next door and Savannah was running the show back here. As the new guy you ended up rooming with me by default, but you'd been out doing whatever it is you did when I wasn't looking and I took a shower and told myself that if you expected a replay of our last moment alone together there wasn't a chance...you were one of my boys and if anything, it was my job to make sure you didn't end up in a situation with someone like me.

***

I tied off my bathrobe as I came out of the tiny hotel bathroom and watched you grin at me from your bed where you'd spread out a game of solitaire. "I thought you were out for the night."

You shrugged and started scooping up the cards. "I told the guys I was going to stay in tonight."

"Oh?" I nodded, trying not to jump to the most obvious conclusion. "I was just gonna watch a few movies and catch up on some paperwork." I started pulling clothes out my suitcase for something comfortable.

"I can leave if you want some privacy."

To see you on the street, most people would assume you were just a skittish kid in the wrong line of work, but your qualifications and the fact that Catherine chose you for my team led me to think otherwise. Our encounter weeks before had only solidified the idea that you were just as bold as the rest of us. "Actually, I thought we should take some time to discuss what happened between us on the twentieth."

"The twentieth?" I tried to play dumb, but you knew better.

"You know what I'm talking about. The night we ended up getting...close." You looked so casual about it, sliding the cards back into their box before turning to stare right at me.

Looking back, it probably would have happened eventually regardless. I don't think I'd done it consciously, but I knew something would happen before we parted ways. "Jesus Newman, if I wanted to discuss something as simple as a little proximity tension I'd date a woman." I tried not to feel exposed as I stripped off my robe and changed into some loose sweats. Truth was, I hadn't dated anyone in a long time. I didn't have the time for a love life.

"Proximity tension?"

I ignored the question long enough to sit down on the end of my bed and pick at my toes. Finally, I clarified the lamest excuse in the book. "We'd spent what, twelve hours together that night? It was only natural that certain feelings would crop up..."

"Try sixteen hours. And you're telling me you kissed me because we spent an extended period of time together?" You swung yourself over to the side of the bed, just within my reach.

"Time out there, kid. You kissed me."

"No, I didn't. I clearly remember we were going over the Brumfield case when you were showing me how you talked him into giving up and instead of cuffing me, you leaned over and kissed me." You were cold, calculated and absolutely correct. I hadn't even realized that was the way it happened.

Of course, it never has been like me to admit to that sort of thing so I just stretched out and let my feet run over the thin carpeting, glad to be still for a change. "It's not like I forced you to put your hands in my pants."

You didn't respond, so I closed my eyes, dug deeper into the bed and hoped you'd just get up and go off to whatever plans you had canceled so I could get back to the case instead of thinking about how your hands had felt under my clothes.

"Sam..." Your voice was calm and I opened my eyes to see you'd gotten naked in the few minutes I'd had my eyes closed and happened to be standing right above me.

"Put your clothes back on, Noah." I watched your face slacken a bit before realizing I hadn't really called you by your first name since the interview. In a way, it was my way of letting someone know I was in a decent mood, not all about the working mind. Gerard and Newman were two hardened Deputy Marshals...Sam and Noah were just two guys alone in a hotel room.

But you regained your composure fast, "Tell me you don't want this as bad as I do."

I closed my eyes again and responded; "I don't want this as bad as you do." It was a lie, but at that moment the last thing I wanted to do was deal with some office romance...especially not one involving me and one of my boys.

Then, you did quite possibly the ballsiest thing *anyone* has ever done or will *ever* do in my presence. You reached down, pushed under the waistband of my sweat pants and grabbed my package. "I think you're lying to me."

I didn't blush; at least I don't think I did, but the fact that my cock got hard as a rock spoke for itself. "You have no idea what you're getting yourself into, kid." I gave you one last chance to back out, but when you started to rub through my boxer shorts I knew you wouldn't.

"I want you to fuck me, Sam." You gave me a look even a saint couldn't refuse. I arched my back into your gentle rubbing, then grabbed your other arm and pulled you to the bed with me.

It wasn't the best sex ever, but was far from the worst. I came fucking you against the cheap headboard so hard I thought you were going to pull it off the wall. Then when we were though it was casual, no talk or questions. You went to the bathroom and took a shower while I disposed of the evidence and called the front desk for a fresh blanket.

Afterward, Cosmo and Biggs had come knocking and asking about the noise. I convinced them I was in the room by myself and you'd just come back to take a shower...but I'm pretty sure they noticed your jeans and t-shirt at the foot of my bed.

***

Part of me still wishes it had been an isolated incident. That maybe if you had moved on and met some nice girl or boy or whatever...that maybe you would have moved on with your life. Guys like you aren't meant to end up in a job like this...you're just too sensitive for it. And you took hell for that, especially from me. But if was far from the end of what I guess you would call our relationship.

We never really talked about it, not until it was too late and I had to end it. I know it was a selfish thing to do, but I had come to realize our occasional soft words uttered during or even after our encounters weren't just lip service.

I should have known the first time you said it.

***

It had been a rare night off at home and we'd all gone out for dinner and drinks. Not suprisingly you'd ended up taking everyone home and I ended up back at your apartment. I had been drinking heavily, but wasn't drunk...so you trusted me to make the right decision as to what would end up happening that night.

It was the first time I'd been inside your apartment and it seemed so cold and empty...like you'd never really finished moving in. Your bedroom had been combined with a study, a large desk heaping with pages of notes and law books and case studies dominating one half of the room with a bed barely large enough for two on the other. We were both naked by the time you went to the desk to retrieve a rubber and some lube...and I fucked you where you stood, bending you over the desk face down on a copy of the United States Constitution.

After I came, pulling you back and pushing deep inside you, I threw you to the bed and did things with my mouth that made you twitch and call out as you thrust your hips into my face until I tasted your warm flavor spilling over my tongue.

We collapsed to your bed, gasping for air like a couple old men and I felt the need to relieve the tension that comes with just having really good sex. Inspired by the thin blue sheets on your mussed bed I popped off with; "I always pictured you having Transformers sheets."

Without missing a beat you responded; "I usually put those away when I'm expecting company."

I was caught off guard by the joke and, for the first time in months, I laughed. Then you laughed. And we both rolled on the bed and laughed until we were clutching each other and howling with laughter as we made funny faces back and forth, trying to draw out the moment. I had forgotten how good it felt to laugh and be stupid and for once not care about everything.

And when we'd begun to regain our composure you looked me dead in the face and in all sincerity whispered; "I think I'm in love with you."

I let out one more nervous chuckle and waited for the punch line, only to be surprised by your lips closing on mine as your tongue pushed its way into my mouth. My mind tried to regain control of the situation and my heart told me to say something, so when you parted for air I responded; "I respect you."

You looked at me like I'd just slapped you in the face, and I didn't understand why. My mind couldn't wrap around the concept of love outside of the respect and trust I had for my team. I respected you and trusted you and knew I was attracted to you...but the very thought of loving was out of my range of comprehension.

***

I understand now. Christ. Now that you're six feet under because I was too damn slow to figure things out.

I loved you all along, but I couldn't bring myself to see it...let alone admit to it. By the time I could accept that you loved me even, the damage had already been done. And I just didn't know how to respond.

At first I ignored it, then I kept it silent. Then, when I was so mixed up I didn't know how to feel I confided in a close friend.

I've got a confession, Noah. Cosmo knows. I haven't told anyone else about us...but I had to ask him for his opinion.

***

We were at my place, knocking back some beers and watching a ball game on a Sunday afternoon. Things were nice and quiet for a change, but I had entirely too much time to think about why you had to go and say you loved me...and why I panicked.

"So chief, what's got you so wound up?" Cosmo asked the opener after bringing another round of beers.

I waited for him to sit back down, carefully planning my options and choice of words before asking; "Have you ever had someone tell you they were in love with you?"

His eyes widened as he took a deep drink. "That's your big problem?"

I shrugged, "Something like that."

"Christ Sam. I *wish* I had women lining up to tell me how much they love me."

"Not loves me...is *in* love with me."

"I get your point. Okay, what's the status on the relationship?"

"We've been sleeping together for six months." I cracked open my bottle for punctuation.

Cosmo nodded and raised an eyebrow; "Sleeping together or fucking?"

"There's a difference?"

"Holy shit, Sam! Don't you know *anything* about women? Sleeping together indicates actually sharing a bed and waking up beside them the next morning. It shows an emotional attachment whereas fucking is purely physical."

"Oh." I nodded. "Both, I guess. He's slept in my bed four or five times."

"He?" Cosmo chugged the remainder of his beer, "Oh boy...men should know better than to say shit like that! With guys it's a whole different set of rules...but it's not really looking good. What about breakfast?"

"What about it?"

"Did you go out, did you cook for him, what'd you do for breakfast?"

"Uh..." I thought back and remembered the first time someone had cooked for me in a long time. You'd made french toast and sausage the first time you stayed the night at my place. "He made me french toast once."

Cosmo nodded slowly. "Looks like your little beau here's got a case of puppy love."

The words sank in a moment. I'd already figured as much, but it was different to have someone else say it. "Great. Hell. What do I do about it?"

He was quiet for once in his life and got up for another round. When he returned, he said; "Well, the way I see it you can either give in and try that whole 'relationship' thing, or cool it off for a while...tell him you should see other people."

I nodded, thinking over my options. I hate relationships, you know that. Hell, you'd probably still be around now if I wasn't so afraid of commitment. And the problem with seeing other people is that I'd still have to see you on a daily basis.

"Anyway." Cosmo turned his attention back to the game. "Can you believe this shit? It almost makes me want a strike."

"Problem is, Cosmo...I still have to see him every day. I don't want to deal with that..."

"What, is he like the doughnut guy or something?" he didn't even look up. "Hell, we're the only people you see on a daily basis."

I waited for it to dawn on him...it didn't. "It's Noah."

"Noah?" He sipped his beer a moment, then looked over at me. "What, like Noah *Newman*?" I nodded back and he shook his head with a sigh. "Isn't he like young enough to be your kid or something?"

Under normal circumstances I would have quite gladly taken the time to show him why you don't make fun of the big dog, but I was too busy thinking about myself. I guess that's a running theme for my life.

"Don't worry about it, Sam. You know I won't say anything about it..."

***

After that, things kind of heated back up between us again for a while. When you tried to talk me into staying the night or invited yourself to my bed, I always managed to make up some reason for us to go our separate ways when we were finished. We went back to work as usual...but when the Kimball case hit and things were crazy again everything went back to the way it was in the beginning. We were back to our old ways.

***

I woke up in a strange bed with no real recollection of just how I'd ended up there. My left hand was trapped under a pile of white pillows while the right seemed to be quite happily entangled in a mop of long curls. I knew it was you and, even at the ungodly hour, it must have meant we'd ended up sleeping together instead of just fucking.

"Mmm...Sam..." You mumbled in that half-sleepy voice you do on the rare occasions you wake up tired. Your thin hands each took hold of my sides and gripped me tight like some kind of teddy bear.

I was worried about our jobs and my life and just about anything I could find to worry about, but apparently the champagne was still working its magic because I just didn't care. For one brief night it was okay that were in love with me because I *was* your teddy bear. "Shh...get some sleep, kid." I whispered, smoothing down your sleep matted hair.

Sometime between then and morning I fell asleep and when Cosmo woke me up the next morning you'd already left for home...the only traces left of your visit was a damp towel on the bathroom floor and the faintest bit of your scent clinging to the sheets.

We'd all been given a nice vacation for our efforts and for almost two weeks I let you wait for me to call.

***

Our first day back on the job, a paper-work day even, you came in right on time and everyone went on to business as usual.

I guess I should have known it was the beginning of the end. I could have made it better then, looking back...but I just didn't know what to tell you.

Our affair just went back to normal, hungry sex wherever and whenever we got the chance. Nights spent pawing at each other and going at it like animals in heat...then sometimes taking a night of comfort in each other's arms.

I was happy, Noah. No other human being, myself included, has ever been able to make me happy. In those blank hours I forgot about work, I forgot about everything but what it was like to know somebody like you cared about somebody like me.

Whether you knew it or not, the years we spent together were some of the best of my life. You saw parts of me that I doubt anyone will ever see again, and even though you never knew it I opened up to you in a way I've never been able to for anybody else.

I guess now you need to know why I called it quits. Well, in a way that's exactly why...you just got too close.

***

The night I left, you'd spent most of your time over in a corner with the boys teasing me about taking the news girl as my date and cracking jokes about who I was trying to fool.

I gave you the news after we dropped her off for the night, it must have been about ten o'clock.

"So, you've got two hours to be on a plane to New York and then what?" Your hands were gripping the steering wheel so tight you could have been having a seizure.

"Mandatory vacation." I had already slipped into a monotone, hoping you'd just stop talking and drive.

"All of us?"

"Just those of us that have to please the Marshal's office public relations crew." I've always hated PR, especially now...nothing quite as annoying as a group of people devoted to making it damn near impossible to do my job.

Apparently you got the idea and decided it was best to let me be. When we got back to my place you helped me pack and we sat on my bed, watching the late night news in silence.

Then, just like clockwork, your hand slid across my thigh and I looked over to catch you wetting your lips. "Sam, you look so uncomfortable in that tux."

We smiled at each other a moment before I leaned back against the pillows and let you swing your slender figure over me to sit on my hips. Your nimble hands made quick work of my tie and began popping open the buttons on my over starched white shirt.

I still can't help but fondly remember the times you got up the guts to just push me back and take what you wanted...the little dog traipsing all over the big dog. You leaned in and kissed me, taking your time as my hands stroked your thin cotton shirt. It wasn't the passionate, sexually charged kisses we usually showed each other with in the heat of the action. It was something more, something deep with meaning that I didn't dare think about.

And then, we made love. It wasn't sex because it had very little to do with the quest of orgasm...I took far more pleasure in watching your lips slowly curve into a smile and your toes curl around the heavy comforter as I did things with your body I can't even imagine trying to describe. You put me through a million different emotions that I still don't care to confront.

When it was over, you drove me to the airport and we sat silently in the car until one of us had the nerve to say something.

"I guess I should be going, then." I had my hand on the handle and grabbed my bag from the floorboard.

"Sure Sam. Call me when you get in?"

"All right."

For reasons I still don't understand I stayed a moment, watching you flip through the available radio stations before finding nothing worth listening to and turning it off. "We should do something when you get back."

"Sure, Catherine is begging me to spend my time off out in the woods. We could rent a cabin or something."

More silence as we both looked for a way to get out of the conversation without mentioning what was going on between us...the fact that we'd just made love. Then, you dropped the bomb again. "Sam, do you love me?"

It was the ultimate question to never ask someone as emotionally fucked up as I am. I *hate* being open about having feelings, let alone actually *discussing* them. So, I did the only thing I could do and panicked. "Noah, Newman...this isn't working out."

"What?" Your hopeful smile dissolved into the terrified expression of a rabbit trapped between a wolf and a semi-truck.

I want to say I had no idea what I was saying, that I didn't mean any of it...but at that moment it was the only thing that made sense to do. "I want you to stop this mess we're running into and go find someone that can give you what you want out of life."

"Sam, I don't want anyone else."

"You deserve someone that can love you back, Noah. I just can't do that." I waited for a response, but you just turned your head and stared out the window.

***

I'd give anything now to know what you were thinking right that moment...if you hated me or understood that it wasn't that I didn't love you. Either way you never said a thing about it after that.

I trusted you with my life and respected you enough to let you take control of me. In some ways I felt that was love enough. But I know now, when it's far too late to tell you, I did love you. I loved you in ways that I *still* don't understand. In a way that almost made me kill an innocent man because I didn't realize what you were trying to tell me even in your final breaths.

And I know that when it's finally my turn to join you -- wherever they send guys like us when we die -- if I had to pick just one regret to have absolved it's that I never got to tell you how much it meant to me to have had someone like you in my life...and I love you.


End file.
